


Star voiced

by fichuntie



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: ASMR, Blood Magic, Dark Magic, Elves, Exhibitionism, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Sex Magic, Snakes, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, past/implied harrow/viren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 10:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fichuntie/pseuds/fichuntie
Summary: “I am having a problem getting some people to listen to me, to hear the importance of what I’m saying.”Aaravos earns Viren's trust and does some ASMR.“Every sigil I speak will offer you more power than midnight weeds of Xadia, than the blackest flames of stars, than the scales of Elarion,” the voice murmured. Viren felt as if the tongue curled over the helix of his ear, wet and warm.No archive warnings apply, but canon typical manipulations and power imbalances wrt magic apply.





	Star voiced

Viren clattered down the stairs, footfalls heavy. They were so ungrateful. Council members hounding him after his long journey, not even giving him a chance to rest his leg from the strain of riding or to soak off the dust of the road. At least the dungeon was cool and quiet. The familiar stones and shelves of powerful artefacts brought Viren a deep breath of relief. The late hour meant the prisoner was sleeping, one fewer man to hound him. His leg throbbed as he strode to the antechamber. 

Viren slumped in the chair. The fate of the kingdom was heavy on his shoulders. The mourning silence weighted the dungeon air; Harrow’s grave was barely cold. The kingdom faced the rising threat of elves and dragons alone and unarmed. His gaze shifted to the table beside the mirror. In the pale blue light, he watched the worm curl, little legs and mandibles twitching in waves. Viren had ground, preserved, powdered, and eaten plenty of magical creatures to achieve the goals of Katolis, but he felt particularly squeamish about this bug. The shivering tingles the elf’s voice evoked worried him, settled along his spine and unnerved his sense of magic. 

Waving his fingers over the mirror, he felt only the cool metal and glass. His disquiet settled. He was in control: the elf and bug were bottled behind glass. The chair was close enough that even slumped against the crimson velvet, he could see the runes etched around the mirror’s edge. Viren sighed, running a hand along his face. His stubble felt rough, motes of dust against his fingertips. His worries were unfounded. He knew he was acting irrationally, had realized it when he’d dragged a chair from the king’s chambers down to this room. After hours pleading with the other kingdoms for help, he felt cornered and hissing like the snake in basket who had set off this entire debacle. His fingers tugged at his hair. 

He dropped his head to his hands. The only sympathetic voice in his ear was a starlight elf. He, who had stood beside the king, now slithered under the cobblestones of the castle. He’d cast his children to the corners of the kingdom, far enough that he couldn’t even hear the echoes of Claudia’s laughter or Soren’s sword blows. All in service to Katolis. He couldn’t crawl into Harrow’s four poster bed in the king’s chambers to discuss strategy; no ring heavy hand would press his face into the red bolster and stroke back his hair; Harrow was gone. His fingernails scraped against his temple. 

A motion in the mirrored room caught his attention. 

The mirror lit from within, rosy firelight revealing the elf. Aaravos’ skin flickered stars as he stared into the fireplace. His hooded cloak was discarded at the table so Viren could see more of the silver freckled chest. The pale white markings continued down to his belt where the gold line was burnished with light. Aaravos’ posture wasn’t so different from his own, sprawled in a chair with a book spread on his lap, one set of long fingers twisted in his silver hair and the other tracing sigils on the page. So unlike Harrow’s locks, the pale strands reflected the moonlight like the pelt of stoat. Soft, probably. Viren watched him, gaze heavy as the elf read another page, golden eyes sliding over the page. 

“You will be useful to me, starting with an explanation of the elves strategies,” Viren announced, brightening his own room with flame so he could be seen. 

A silver brow rose. Aaravos tapped his ear. One could do plenty of magic with even the tip of an elf ear, Viren thought nastily, and caught his own temper. He dimmed the magic sun-fire that had flared with the thought back to a more reasonable blaze. Aaravos turned his head, gesturing again to his pointed ears. The serpentine line of his throat was exposed without his cloak, pale gray with a purplish blush at the tip of the ear. He made a sweeping gesture towards the table where the magical tools lay.

Viren looked at the worm which was already wriggling at the bottom of the jar. 

“Even Pip was better than this… caterpillar,” Viren said. Still, he tipped the creature into the palm of his hand and brought it to his ear. Usually he wasn’t ticklish, but something about the slithering movements unnerved him. 

The feeling of the little legs on the crown of his ear made him shiver. 

“How may I serve you so late in the evening?” it murmured for its master. The deep voice frizzled up the hair on his neck. He suppressed the full body shiver with the force of his frustration. 

“From one snake to another, you’re not getting my trust,” Viren said, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice. He might have had to knee-walk to placate a child queen, but a trapped magical creature wasn’t getting more respect than it could claw from him. 

“Of course not. Trust takes time to earn. I am not yet worthy of yours.” Aaravos tilted his head, long silver hair parting to reveal his collarbones. 

Viren’s eyes slitted. He looked the elf over, from the tops of his lavender horns to the the star mark on his bare chest. “A star-touched elf wants the trust of a dark mage?” 

It was incomprehensible. If Harrow, a human king, wouldn’t trust the high mage he let into his bed, no elf would seek Viren’s trust.

The same tilted smirk slid across the elf’s face. He pressed a finger to his lips and hissed. The soft sound dripped into his ear as a whisper of sensation. Viren might have felt the smooth mandibles of the bug. That might have caused the tingles spreading down his ventral belly then hidden underneath the tight laces of his pants. 

No answer. His name hadn’t been helpful either when Viren was watching the egg cracked spill of rot on the books. Viren had Aaravos trapped in the mirror, stolen from a dragon’s nest, so he’d had the power. 

“You would really serve me?” Viren asked, letting his legs spread in the chair. 

“Of course, my lord.” The black and gold eyes slid to meet his slate ones. 

The words dripped into his mind. The low and deep tones swirled into him, making him shiver. Viren felt his cock twitch. Something was twisting inside of him at the deep resonance of the voice and the image of Aaravos’ bare dark sky body. He was only in black breeches and leather boots where Viren still wore his full waistcoat. 

“You’d help me with my dark magic?” Viren asked. His cock thickened at the thought of the power, the flesh of the stars under him. 

“Each bare vowel and sigil I offer you would be proof of my loyalty,” Aaravos promised. 

Viren slid a hand down to adjust himself. Fealty offered to him, laid between his legs while he rested on a king’s seat, an offering of power lapping at his cock. Before he had knee-walked to royalty, slavering like Bait at his prince’s heel. Now, he shuddered off his waist coat and belt, feeling hot shivers under his collar. Each word brought a flush to his high cheeks, probably blushing warm enough for the worm on his ear to feel. 

“It is my desire to serve you with friendship and pleasure, not fear,” Aaravos smiled fully. His fingers tangled in his own hair, pulling it as a lover might so that his neck was stretched towards the mirror. The voice in Viren’s ear deepened. “May I serve you thus, my lord?”

“Yes,” Viren gasped, already unlacing himself. 

“Already you drank of my chalice. You swallowed the opal I offered from my tongue. Every drop of it.” 

Black eyes twinkled. Aaravos was bare to the belt, bright white light shining out of the marks under his eyes and each pinprick light on his chest. Viren salivated, remembering the power of the chalice, the roll of it down his throat. Salty-sweet taste over his tongue and the reflexive swallow while he was watched. He bit his lip to keep the groan back. He palmed himself, shivering at the feel of his hand around his cock in the cool room. Aaravos glowed brighter in the mirror.

“Every sigil I speak will offer you more power than midnight weeds of Xadia, than the blackest flames of stars, than the scales of Elarion,” the voice murmured. Viren felt as if the tongue curled over the helix of his ear, wet and warm. He spread his precome from the head of himself, then with a tight grip on his cock pumped. The sigil on the purple chest was white to all four points, glittering with magic. He imagined it marked with come.

“Power for me to use,” Viren panted. He hadn’t touched himself in days and could feel the heaviness of his balls, the twitching spurt of more precome. 

“You’ll be so powerful, my lord, filled with my voice and stars. Won’t you let me fill you?” Aaravos’ voice rumbled over the last words. Three fingers trailed over his collarbone, a teasing touch Viren wished to follow with his own rougher hands.

“Not yet,” Viren hissed back, “I don’t trust you, Aara-” he cut off with a groan as his grip tightened. He was going to spend, except he wanted this pleasure to last. 

“Your stone was opened, foined and undone by me,” the elf said. His fingers slid lower from his neck to drag over the star marks and pinch his nipples. “On my pestle the geode was split open, spilling glittering light for you.” Viren felt the scrape of teeth on his ear, fangs at his skin that could only be the feathery twitches of the worm. “Which you swallowed down this throat.”

“You let my dagger into your body, let me pierce you,” Aaravos growled. 

“Fuck,” Viren slid fingers into himself. It’d been a while so he was tight as he pushed in, gasping on his own fingers but spearing himself open quickly. The elf’s honey eyes tracked the movement with the same precision as Harrow’s hazel gaze. With another murmured word, oil slicked his fingers. 

“A sheath for my power, you would have the magic you want, beloved of the stars. Magic to cast kings and dragons from the sky would fill you.”

He flushed, panting eagerly, as he worked himself open. His fingers pressed deep. Inch by inch he filled, spread open on the elf’s magic. The twist of them sought out his prostate. Pleasure hissed inside him, spread over his limbs. He imagined how those elven fingers, few and slender, would feel pressed inside him rather than against the glass. He gasped. 

“Each offering on your tongue will be a dagger to your enemies.”

Viren shivered at the words which almost felt as if they slid down his spine, cupping his ass. The hold on his back was just the feeling of the knotted wood, but he pressed back as if the elf was there, holding him. His hips rolled, thrusting between the hold on his back and his own pumping hand. 

“Let me fill your mouth and body, perfectly mirrored on both ends. Swallow me down, mage. Let me in.”

He was so close, desperate, and his hand moved frantically over his cock. He just needed a few more words. Aaravos’ pants were tented, unable to hide the thick cock. Viren had done this; he was in control, desired. He spread his legs. Aaravos watched, licked his lips before continuing in deep tones.

“Under the black sky, enveloped by the star arcana thrust into you. You’d be so lovely as starlight would splatter into you, then trickle out of you with spells.”

Viren twisted his hand over his cock at the image; he groaned and came. His come splattered over the chair, pale on the red velvet. His heavy breath fogged the mirror. He barely caught his breath, overwhelmed. 

Aaravos slid a finger through the condensation. He sketched an unfamiliar rune. Viren felt the magic course over him, cleaning away the sweat and seed. Convenient, he thought. He felt loose and hazy, sprawled out over the chair but with pleasant exhaustion rather than the haggard stress he’d entered with. Useful. 

“You will help me deal with the cockatrice prince and his toad,” he panted. “Then I will see where you can next sheath your dagger.”

“Yes, my lord.” The worm tickled his ear. Viren hated these animals.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm deeeeeeeply hoping that someone (viren) mocks prince ez for being a cockatrice w the whole pet toad thing and his animal abilities AND hatching an egg. like. this has to be intentional right? esp since we got magical creatures captured in mirrors??
> 
> anyway snakes, magic, hamlet, and powerplay are hot. this is masturbatory self indulgent purple prose, and i know it. 
> 
> many thanks to lonespark and the viren on main discord for their help.
> 
> my twitter: https://twitter.com/fichuntie


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